The Dread Pirate Captain Holmes and Princess Joan
by Johanna Black
Summary: "So you wanted to be a pirate?" Sherlock looked over at John from where he sat on the sofa, eyebrow raised. "Wherever did you hear that?" John glanced up from his paper. "Mycroft." Just a bit of Johnlock fluff. Please R


**Something I did on omegle. Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All rights belong to the great and powerful Moftiss. **

**Enjoy!**

John didn't know what made him bring it up. It was a particularly quiet morning at 221B. They were sitting in their sitting room. Sherlock was staring at the wall, fingers steepled beneath his chin; John was reading his morning paper, reading his paper.

"So you wanted to be a pirate?"

Sherlock looked over at John from where he sat on the sofa, eyebrow raised.

"Wherever did you hear that?" John glanced up from his paper.

"Mycroft." Sherlock rolled his eyes, leaning his head backwards onto the couch's armrest.

"Oh, of course. Well, honestly, who has realistic dreams when they're a child?" John shook his head.

"I think it's cute."

"Cute? How is that _cute_?" Sherlock's nose wrinkled in disgust, bringing his steepled fingers up to his lips. John rolled his eyes.

"The piracy ITSELF isn't cute. The thought of you running around your house wearing an eye patch and brandishing your great-grandfathers sword is cute." John explained, smiling. Sherlock's eyes widened and he brought his hands to cover his face with an embarrassed groan.

"Just had to bring _that_ up, didn't you?" He rolled over onto his side, back facing John as he curled up into a little ball of theatrical misery.  
John chuckled.

"Your mother showed me the picture." He said, returning to his paper. Leave it up to Sherlock to act like this was the end of the world.

"Oh, God, she _didn't_!" Came a mortified shout from somewhere around the corner of the sofa.

"Fantastic, as if my brother wasn't enough, now my mother's betrayed me."  
John laughed.

"She did. The two of us went to lunch." He said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Lovely woman."

"Yes, she is, aside from the fact that she's showing people the /worst/ pictures from by childhood . . . " Sherlock curled in a little closer, huffing over his shoulder. John thought or a moment.

"I had it worse." He admitted.  
Sherlock looked over his shoulder at this, an eyebrow raised.

"Really? How?" John sighed.

"I am telling you this in confidence, alright? Tell anyone else and I'll show Anderson and Donovan that picture of you." Sherlock rolled back over, sitting up with an expression of deep interest.

"Sure, fine, fair enough." John sighed.

"Harry used to dress me up as... Are you ready for this?" Sherlock nodded, peering at John over his fingers,

"Yes?" John grimaced.

"Princess Joan."

It took everything in Sherlock to hold back the laughter that threatened to burst from his throat, and he remain totally silent for a few moments as he reined himself in.

"R-really?" He managed, his voice betraying the mirth he felt,

"P-princess Joan, then? That's . . . Cute." John smiled.

"I appreciate your valiant attempt, but you can laugh. She used to put me in one of her old dresses and do my makeup. We'd have tea parties. She taught me how to curtsy."

Sherlock let his laughter free at this, head falling down into his palms and shoulders shaking.

"D-did she? That /is/ far worse than my wanting to be a pirate. I-I'm sure you made an adorable princess, John!"

"Oh stuff it Holmes." John said, but he couldn't help but laugh as well.

"If we had met when we were little, maybe Dread Captain Holmes could've rescued Princess Joan."

"Oh, yes, from the horrible dragon Harriet, at that." Sherlock looked back up, still snickering,

"Though we may have to contend with Mycroft, holder of a minor position in the British navy." John chuckled, then thought.

"What if we _had_ met when we were younger?"

"Honestly? I probably would have chased you off. Believe it or not, I was even _more_ difficult to deal with as a child." Sherlock leaned back against the sofa at this, laughter finally calming.

"Sherlock, you _are_ a child." John teased, grinning.

"I probably wouldn't have talked, though. I was kind of a shy kid." He admitted. Sherlock scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Am not. And who wouldn't be, if their sister used them as a mannequin when she was bored?"

John chuckled.

"After she stopped dressing me up, I wanted to be an astronaut."

"Well, a bit more realistic than pirate, though still misguided." Sherlock smirked, imagining little John driving a cardboard rocket.

"I had an astronaut themed birthday party when I was seven. We made a giant macaroni rocket." John recalled, smiling. Sherlock's smirk stretched out into a grin at this.

"Again, John, I must say, you as a child must have been rather . . . _cute_."

"I wasn't." John leaned back in his chair, setting his paper aside.

"And yet, all evidence points to the contrary."

"And you wanting to be a pirate aren't cute?"

"No, me wanting to be a pirate is silly and nonsensical."

"But me wanting to be an astronaut isn't?"

"No. Probably because it's _you_, and not _me_."

"That's not true."

"What, how?"

"You were very cute as a child!"

"No, I wasn't. _You_ were, by the sounds of it."

"Yes, but I have photographic evidence that you were cute."

"Well, that's an unfair advantage, so I'm removing it from the equation."

"No!"

"Yes. Unless you provide me with pictures, my argument stands"

"Fine! Come on." John stood, heading to his room. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but followed after John. John dug through his trunk and pulled out a picture of him at the space museum when he was seven.

"There."

Sherlock looked down at the pictures of young John, the smallest of actual, genuine smiles tugging at the corners of his cheeks as he saw the pure enthusiasm on the child's face. He chuckled softly as he looked through them, before looking back up.

"It seems as though the sides have been balanced."

"Yes they have. And we were both cute." John lay down on his bed and yawned.

"I practically lived at the Space museum til I was twelve."

"Fine, I'll admit that I _might_ have been just the _slightest_ bit cute." Sherlock sat down beside John, still holding the photos.

"Can't tell you how many times I watched Peter Pan as a child."

"You were very cute." John curled around Sherlock.

"And I can imagine." He said softly. Sherlock's smile widened just a bit as John leaned into him, an arm raising to encircle his shoulders.

"Well, looks like we've reached an agreement, then." John nodded and tested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Mhm." Sherlock laid his head atop John's, rubbing his arm gently as he murmured,

"Tired?"

"No. Just feeling... Cuddly. And nice." Sherlock chuckled lowly, pulling John just a bit tighter into his side.

"Well, I just might be able to accommodate that." John laid down and pulled Sherlock down with him.  
Sherlock followed eagerly, pulling John close up against his chest. He wrapped his arms comfortably around the other, a contented sigh falling forth from his lips as they nestled. John grinned and rested his head against Sherlock's heart.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock murmured, nuzzling downwards into the other's hair. John looked up and pressed his lips to Sherlock's. Sherlock brought up a hand to cradle John's head, leaning forward into the kiss with lazy enthusiasm. He smiled against John's lips, absolutely delighted.

"Love you." John murmured against Sherlock's lips.

"I love you too, John . . . " Sherlock breathed, eyes fluttering closed.

**So, what did you think? Reviews are love! **

**-Johanna Black**


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